


I See You

by alwayscastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Angst, Slow Burn, Smut, angel!cas - Freeform, canonverse, casefic, destiel smut, hunter!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayscastiel/pseuds/alwayscastiel
Summary: Castiel helps Sam and Dean on an unusual case. Throughout the process, it the hunter and the angel fight against (and finally come to terms with) their feelings for one another. Based off the scene where Cas watches Dean rake leaves when he is living with Ben and Lisa (don't worry, they're not really characters in this fic). Some mild angst, some Dean being  repressed and annoying, some Cas being an awkward bean, and some Sam being 110% done. Eventual fluff and smut and love and all of those good things because our boys deserve a happy ending for once, don't you think?





	1. Chapter 1

_Castiel wished he could make himself visible. He wished he could walk up to the man in front of him and wrap his wings around those strong shoulders. But staring at Dean's back, he knew that he didn't have the right to. It was too much, he decided. Too much to ask, too much to assume. Too much at stake. The life Dean had here with Lisa and Ben was beautiful. The fact that the most important part of his day was raking up piles of dead leaves was beautiful. And, of course, Dean was beautiful. But Castiel couldn't reach out and place understanding directly into Dean's stubborn heart, and so he'd never be able to fully explain what he wanted. He felt guilty for even wanting it. He knew there was no way he could bring himself to ask. Instead, Castiel watched for a bit longer than maybe he should have, waiting until the sun went down and Dean put the rake away in the toolshed, before the angel disappeared into the night with the faintest rustle of wings. Dean glanced over his shoulder at the noise, but, of course, there was no one there._

"Now I lay me down to sleep...yadda yadda...Cas, if you're listening, Sammy and I need some help down here. Any chance you've got your ears on?"

Dean opened one eye slowly, glancing around the motel room. No Cas. Instead, he was confronted with Sam's look of discontentment. Dean shrugged, and bent down to unlace his boots. He very purposefully tried not to be upset about Cas not answering. Sam was less reserved.

"Dean, we should try again." he demanded. Dean took a deep breath and tried not to snap at his brother. He knew that being away from the bunker for any long period of time was hard on Sammy. Hell, it was hard on him too. They'd never had a real home, and now that they did, it was hard to leave it. He hated to admit it, but the two of them were getting a bit spoiled. It had been months since their last real case, and this one was turning out to be a doozy. Sam got increasingly grumpier with each greasy meal and crappy brand of motel shampoo. And Dean? Dean just wished Cas was along for the ride.

"Dean!" Sam insisted.

"Dude, would you give it a rest?" Dean snapped, losing his cool. Patience had never been his strong suit anyway. "You wanted me to pray, so I prayed. Cas isn't around. If it's so important to you, _you_ go pray to him. I'm going to bed."

Sam pulled a bitchface and crossed his arms, but after a minute of silent glaring he sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled his laptop out of his bag. Dean flopped backwards onto his bed. The springs creaked and groaned, and something hard dug directly into his back. The hunter sighed and glared at the stucco ceiling. He missed his Temprepedic mattress.

The two of them stayed up well into the night. It was 2:00 AM by the time Dean drifted off, images from John's journal and the random websites Sam had found playing through his mind like a film reel. Sam was out almost immediately, curled into a surprisingly small ball under the sheets of his bed. Dean took a little longer to fall asleep; he tossed and turned––stretching his whole body out, dragging the covers up to his chin, rearranging the two lumpy pillows into a more comfortable position––until eventually he dropped off from sheer exhaustion. Just before he fell asleep, he shot another silent prayer to Cas–– _Hey, man, if you're hearing this...please just drop in. I need your help_ ––but he was asleep before he could realize that, this time, he had been answered.

 

Castiel felt the familiar tug in the back of his mind for the second time that day. Dean was calling him. He could ignore it once, but that was about all. Despite being an angel, he only had so much self control when it came to Dean. With a soft flutter of wings, he was suddenly in the boys' motel room. It was dark, and it took a minute for the angel's eyes to adjust. He could hear Sam faintly snoring somewhere to his right, but it wasn't Sam who had called him. If he was being honest with himself, it was never Sam he looked for first anyway. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the outline of Dean sprawled across the motel room bed nearest the door. Despite being asleep, the hunter looked far from comfortable. His hands were balled into fists and he was scowling. Castiel suppressed a smile. He could imagine Dean tossing and turning, grumbling about the bedsprings and the less-than-satisfactory pillows. He had seen it before. But thankfully, this time Dean was asleep. And so Castiel made himself visible.

It sometimes worried him, the sheer amount of time he spent in Dean's presence that the hunter was entirely unaware of. He often wondered if Dean would be angry at him if he knew––Castiel suspected that he would––but that didn't stop the angel from appearing as often as he could, simply to be around him. He never violated Dean's privacy––he knew how wrong that would be. Castiel would never go to him while he was in his bedroom or the bathroom, or even when he was alone watching TV. 

But sometimes, when Dean did research at the kitchen table in the bunker, Cas would take a seat next to him and watch him work. When he drove somewhere in the Impala, the angel would sit in the passenger seat, content to just study the hunter as he turned down twisting roads and sang, loudly and off-key. And often, when Dean shared a room with Sam, Castiel would appear after the brothers had fallen asleep simply to watch over the two of them until the sun came up. He knew that Dean would be angry about that. He had often told Cas that his propensity to watch other people while they were sleeping was "creepy". But it wasn't. Angels didn't sleep, but humans did. And if Castiel could ensure a night of quiet rest for the two men who had sacrificed so much for the world, that's what he would do.

Castiel sat down gingerly on the side of Dean's bed. The hunter shifted in his sleep, fingers clenching and unclenching in discomfort. As gently as he could, Cas stretched out a hand and pressed it to the side of Dean's cheek. The scowl melted off the hunter's face immediately as Castiel poured as much comfort and soothing energy into the touch as he could. He kept his hand on Dean's cheek until the hunter's fists relaxed and his eyelids began to flutter as he entered deep sleep.

With a sigh, Castiel removed his hand from the side of Dean's face. He took pride in protecting Dean from anything, even the hunter's own stubborn self. But as much as he wanted to stay, he knew that spending the night sitting on Dean's bed and studying his sleeping face crossed a line that he wouldn't be able to cross back over. And so, like always, he brushed his fingers gently across the spattering of freckles across the hunter's nose, then stood as silently as he could and migrated to the chair in the corner of the room. He would stay there until the boys woke. The ache in his chest was painful, but it was manageable. And since Castiel didn't understand it, he did what he always did with such things––he pushed it down until he could barely feel it at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dean's hair stuck up at weird angels as he threw his head back against the sofa and laughed the way he only did when he was drunk––loudly, unashamedly. Sam chuckled from the other side of the couch, but he was steadily drifting off. Dean attempted to remove his feet from his brother's lap, but ended up dumping himself on the floor in the process. From the corner, Castiel suppressed a laugh, mixed with the smallest tinge of worry. Intellectually he knew Dean was fine. All he had done was fallen off a couch. But it seemed that with this particular human, anything that could possibly worry the angel did._

_Sam was snoring now. Dean blinked up at the ceiling from his place on the floor, his green eyes suddenly sad. Cas felt that he was intruding on something, but he couldn't pull himself away. Instead, he moved across the room and knelt by Dean's side, gently taking the beer out of the hunter's relaxed hand. Dean was too drunk to notice. For a moment, the hunter's startling eyes seemed to focus directly on Castiel's own. The angel felt a flutter of––what was that? Fear? Apprehension? Excitement?––but before he had time to gage his own reaction, Dean's eyes were moving on. Castiel remembered that he was invisible. His heartbeat slowed._

_Cas watched as Dean's eyes blinked closed. His head lolled back onto the seat of the couch and his mouth fell open as the liquor put him to sleep. When he fell asleep drunk he always looked so much more peaceful. Like the alcohol chased the bad dreams away. Castiel knew this wasn't true––Dean simply didn't remember the bad dreams in the morning. But that didn't stop the small bubble of relief from inflating in his chest when he realized that Dean would sleep through until sunrise._

_Cas could have left him there. He probably should have. But it wasn't so far to the hunter's bed, and he knew that Dean wouldn't remember in the morning. He would think that he had gotten into bed himself. He would never suspect that Cas had anything to do with it. Without letting himself think twice about it, the angel gathered the sleeping man into his arms. Castiel knew he could lift the hunter without feeling anything, but for some reason he stopped regulating his vessel as strongly for those few precious seconds of carrying Dean to his bed. He wanted to feel the hunter's weight. He didn't know why, but it was important to him. Castiel had learned long ago to stop questioning his own reactions when it came to Dean. More often then not, there was no reasonable explaination for how he felt. So he pulled the covers back with one arm, cradling Dean to his chest with the other. A moment later, when Dean was safely tucked into the bed, Castiel spread his wings and, in an instant, he was gone._

Dean stretched and yawned, the morning light filtering gently through the drapes and onto his face. He was feeling better rested than he had in ages––believe it or not, he had somehow managed to sleep better in this crappy motel room bed than he had in his own bed back home in a long damn time. He rubbed his eyes, and turned over to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. And yelped. Because where he had expected to see an alarm clock, instead he saw Cas. Sitting in a chair in the corner. Staring at him. Dean huffed in exasperation.

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you that it's weird to watch people sleep?" he grumbled, glaring at the angel and sitting up in bed. Sam stirred behind him with a groan.

"My apologies." said Castiel, without so much as blinking. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching again. His shirt rode up over his stomach and there was an awkward moment where Cas was staring at him and Dean couldn't call him out because then he would be admitting that he had noticed Cas was staring and _why was Cas staring anyway?_ But thankfully Sam woke and yawned loudly, distracting Dean from Castiel's ever-so-apparent lack of social skills.

"Hey, Cas!" Sam exclaimed, a smile lighting his sleepy features.

"Hello, Sam. Your hair looks very strange." Cas replied, narrowing his eyes slightly at the hunter's bedhead. Sam pouted.

"The shampoo here sucks." he mumbled, running a self-conscious hand through his hair. Dean cleared his throat.

"Uh, Cas..." he started, glancing back at the angel, who looked up at him stoically. "Not that talking about Sam's hair isn't fascinating, but...why are you here?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows. Castiel looked confused.

"Because you prayed to me. Twice." he supplied, staring at Dean.

"Twice?" asked Sam, a smile in his voice. Dean decided to ignore him.

"Yeah man, I know. But I prayed to you yesterday. Why'd you show up now?" he asked, feeling suddenly like he was asking a ridiculous question.

"I was busy before." Cas replied. "What do you need my help with?"

"Cas, you're gonna love this one." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Let me shower and I'll show you our notes on the case so far. Dean, you wanna pick up something for breakfast?" The shorter hunter nodded and grabbed his keys.

A little while later, Dean blew back through the motel room door, a box full of donuts in one hand and a cardboard tray with three coffees balanced on it in the other. Sam and Castiel were sitting at the table, going over the notes on Sam's laptop. Cas had John's journal open in front of him. He looked just as confused as the two hunters had been feeling.

"I don't understand. There were bodies, and now they've vanished?" he asked, looking quizzically at Sam.

"Not quite." the hunter replied, leaning back in his chair in frustration. "There were two bodies. Dean and I saw them. But then they vanished and then," he continued before Cas could interrupt, "they appeared again. But this time, in pieces. Nothing was missing, though. So we have no idea why they were cut up." he pursed his lips in exasperation. Dean closed the door behind him with his foot and set the coffee and donuts down on the table.

"I got you coffee too, Cas. I hope that's okay. I figured you might like these molecules better than some other ones." he said, offering a cup to the angel without looking at him. Cas took it carefully.

"Thank you, Dean." he said quietly. Even if Castiel didn't need sustenance, he knew that this small gesture was a gift from the hunter. He wasn't going to turn it down.

Sam smirked slightly and Dean shoved his coffee into his chest, pulling up a chair and spinning it so he could sit on it backwards.

"So, you guys get anywhere yet?" he asked, stuffing and entire donut into his mouth at once. Sam looked at him disapprovingly.

"Dean, you were only gone for like half an hour. Of course we didn't get anywhere." he said, thrusting a napkin in Dean's general direction. The hunter grinned around his mouthful of donut and Sam pursed his lips, going back to his work.

"What do you think, Cas?" Dean asked, swallowing heavily. "Ever seen anything like this before?"

Castiel shook his head.

"I can't say that I have. Perhaps you should contact some other hunters and ask them if they've encountered anything similar recently." he suggested, carefully peeling back the plastic top of the coffee cup and inhaling the steam. Dean shook his head.

"I already called Garth," he admitted. "He's looking into it but so far he hasn't found anything." Dean sighed in frustration. "We thought you might have some idea about what's going on. Sorry that we called you down for nothing, man. We shouldn't have bothered you." Castiel blinked at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. He knew he couldn't let it show, but the idea that Dean needed him not for his angelic power but for his opinion filled him up with a warmth that he let himself bask in for a few seconds before replying.

"Perhaps it would help if I saw the bodies," Castiel suggested, cautiously raising the coffee to his lips. He inhaled once more, as if to verify that it was, indeed, safe to ingest, then took a sip. And smiled in surprise. "It's good!" he exclaimed. Dean grinned at him.

"Told you!" the hunter gloated. He looked overly contented with himself and Castiel glared at him slightly, but he couldn't hide the hint of a smile curling around his lips. Dean scrunched up his nose and eyebrows and stuck out his tongue. Cas rolled his eyes, and Dean's features split into a real grin. It was a beautiful expression, one Castiel wasn't used to seeing and even less used to causing. He hummed happily to himself and took another sip of his coffee. Sam must've been watching from his seat at the computer, however, because he took that moment to clear his throat.

"Why don't we take Cas to the morgue?" he suggested, closing his laptop with a snap. "That way we can look at the bodies again and maybe it will give us a chance to interview the guards who were on duty when they disappeared."

Dean nodded and stood, stretching.

"I'll pull the car around," he announced, scooping his keys off the table and shoving another donut into his mouth on the way out. Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair as the door swung closed behind Dean's retreating figure. He glanced over at Castiel, who was staring into the depths of his coffee as though it held all the answers. Sam sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I swear he hasn't smiled in two days, Cas." he started, shaking his head. "Then you show up and he starts acting like a kid. I don't know what you do, but whatever it is, keep doing it. It's working." 

Cas looked up at him in shock. There was something in his wide blue eyes that Sam couldn't quite place, but he was used to it at this point. The angel and his brother had been dancing around each other like this for years now. Dean was stubborn and Castiel didn't understand emotions and there was no way that either of them was going to get anywhere on their own. But it was still frustrating for Sam, who sometimes wanted to whack one or both of them upside the head and scream _OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EYES_ until one of them realized.

Cas opened his mouth like he was about to say something, closed it again with a snap, then smiled slightly into his coffee. Sam felt like rolling his eyes for the thousandth time that morning, but under it all he felt the insistent buzz of contentment that came along with knowing that should something happen to him, Dean would always be fully and completely loved.

A sharp rap on the door followed by Dean shouting "Sammy! Cas! Time to go!" shook both men out of their respective reveries, and Sam stood slowly, reaching for his bag and glancing once more over his shoulder as Cas gathered up his coffee and followed him out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dean was singing. It was midnight, a half-eaten pie and a blanket in the back seat, windows rolled down, cruising down the road at 50 miles an hour. It wasn’t unusual for Dean to sing and drive late at night. He often did it even with Sam in the car. That wasn’t what had fascinated Castiel this evening. What had fascinated the angel was the song that Dean had chosen to sing._

_The soft guitars of Taylor Swift’s Innocent leaked from the car’s stereo. Dean seemed to know every single word. The angel relaxed back into the passenger seat, safe in the knowledge that he was completely and entirely invisible to the hunter sitting beside him. He could stare for as long as he liked without being called out for it. And honestly, Castiel didn’t understand why Dean called him out at all._

_The hunter should have been used to staring. Looking at Dean wasn’t like looking at other people, Castiel knew that. And it baffled him that humans could pass this man in the street and not stop dead in amazement. There was just so much to look at. Every human being was his father’s creation, but it was clear to Castiel that this particular human was a masterpiece. When he looked at Dean, he was captivated the same way that looking at the ocean or the stars captivated him. He would be content just to study this human’s face for hours, as long as the man would let him. He ached to count every single freckle on Dean’s face, and then afterwards kiss every single one of them too. He didn’t know what to do with these aches. He didn’t know where they came from or when they would go away._

_And above all, the angel knew that he could never mention any of this to Dean. These silent, invisible moments were his guilty pleasure––they were all that he could have of this man that he wasn’t even sure what he wanted from. But he knew that the way he felt about Dean had long ago moved beyond the definition of friendship. So before he could let himself get in too deep, just as the last few notes of the song hung on the air, Castiel spread his wings and took to the sky._

About 20 minutes and 6 miles later, Dean maneuvered Baby into the morgue parking lot. Sam drummed his fingers incessantly on his knee as he stared out the window, clearly unaware that he was doing anything. It was making Dean nervous, though. For some unknown reason, his anxiety surrounding this case was higher than normal. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something hugely important was going to happen soon, and he didn’t like not knowing what it was. Dean Winchester was not used to not knowing.

From his perch in the backseat, Castiel surveyed the low building in front of them. There was nothing particularly inspiring about it––nothing that screamed we keep corpses in here––but something about it was disconcerting nonetheless. He could sense it before they even got out of the car––there was residual magic in the air. He tugged on Deans sleeve as the hunter turned off the car and pocketed his keys.

“Dean.” the angel rumbled, and when Dean turned around Cas realized that perhaps this was a moment where he should be thinking about personal space. The hunter’s face was only inches from his own. But strangely, instead of wanting to move away he felt an overwhelming desire to lean in closer. He almost did, too. But something stopped him. Another invisible line that he knew he could not cross. Another barrage of emotions that he didn’t know how to deal with. That, coupled with the fact that Dean’s face turned an impressive shade of pink when Castiel didn’t look away from him had the angel’s head reeling. Dean cleared his throat.

“Uh….yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding a little rougher than normal. Castiel shifted backwards. He was clearly making the hunter uncomfortable. Sam glanced at the two of them sideways and then exited the car as quietly as he could.

“Hello? Cas? You were gonna say something?” Dean prompted when the angel didn’t speak for a longer period of time than was strictly normal. Castiel shook his head a little and remembered what he’d been trying to say.

“Dean, I don’t think you are going to like this very much, but I can feel some residual magic in the air here. I think that whatever we’re dealing with has to do with sorcery.”

Dean threw his head back and groaned.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked, eyes closed in resignation. Castiel blinked at him.

“Yes. Um…possibly? What do you think that I am saying?” he responded, head tilted slightly as he tried to figure out what Dean thought he was telling him. The hunter ran a hand over his eyes and then up into his hair.

“Are we or are we not going to have to deal with witches on this hunt?” he asked through gritted teeth. Castiel sighed.

“I think that it’s very likely we will, Dean.” he answered. He didn’t understand the hunter’s hatred of witches, but that didn’t stop him from being upset at something ruining Dean’s good mood. Dean hissed through his teeth.

“Freaking witches, man…” he mumbled under his breath, popping the car door open and clambering out onto the pavement. He slammed the door behind him with his foot, then turned to briefly touch the roof of the car as if he was apologizing. Cas slid over in the backseat and exited the Impala, closing the door in a somewhat gentler manner. Dean was already stalking over to Sam to inform him of Castiel’s observation. The angel sighed. It was clear even from behind that Dean walked like a soldier. Cas supposed that John had trained that into him when he was a child, given that he had been more of a supervising officer than a father. But Sam didn’t walk that way. It was another thing that was uniquely Dean––something that Cas occasionally noticed and found attractive in other people, but not because it was objectively attractive. It was attractive because it reminded him of Dean. The angel realized that he had been standing by the Impala and staring at the two brothers (who were now having a whispered conversation as people walked past), and so he hurried to catch up with the two of them. He caught only the tail end of their conversation.

“I know you don’t like it, Dean, but you have to admit that it makes some sort of sense. Maybe the bodies were used in a spell?” Sam was suggesting, flicking his hair absentmindedly out of his face.

“Yeah, except nothing’s missing, remember? So what would they even have been used for?” Dean grumbled. He caught sight of Cas and shook his head. “I hate witches.” he growled, glaring at Castiel like the angel had personally arranged for this case to feature the occult. Cas stared back at him stoically.

“I am aware of that, Dean. I think you’re just going to have to deal with it.” he said, somewhat irritated. Sam looked up at him and huffed a little laugh. Dean just glared, turned on his heel, and marched towards the red brick building on the other side of the parking lot. Sam fell into step next to Castiel and they followed Dean’s leather-clad figure as he marched up to the doors and right on in.

The entrance situation was the same as always. They flashed their badges to the bored-looking young man behind the desk, and someone ushered them through a couple doors and down a hallway into the actual morgue part of the building. They were greeted by an older policemen who Sam and Dean were clearly acquainted with. He offered his hand to them.

“Agents Swift, Perry. And who is this?” he asked, raising one bushy white eyebrow and nodding towards Cas. The angel opened his mouth but before he could say anything Dean cut in.

“This is our partner Agent Presley. Well, our trainee, actually. He’s coming along on this case to learn how it’s done.” Dean grinned past the old man and winked at Cas who shot him an irritated look. The cop extended his hand to Castiel, and they shook.

“Chief Doyle,” he said by way of introducing himself. Castiel nodded absentmindedly. It was all very human, and Cas was preoccupied with trying to figure out whether or not Dean was acutally upset with him or if he was being playful. Dean, apparently, wasn’t preoccupied at all, because he turned and followed after the police chief as he walked back over towards one of the large drawers that had been pulled out from the wall. Dean caught up with him.

“How come you’re back here, Chief? That last lead not pan out?” he asked, glancing amusedly over at the old man. Doyle didn’t seem to notice his smile.

“I’m afraid not, son. If I’m being honest, we’re frankly stymied by this one. It’s the strangest darned thing,” he added, coming to a stop in front of the cold chamber. They all crowded around it. It held the remnants of a young woman, reassembled like a gory jigsaw puzzle.

“What is?” Dean prompted, as Sam took out his notepad and pen.

“What? Oh, yes,” the old man continued, “the strangest darned thing. They died of completely different things, you know. There’s nothing linking them at all. They’re practically opposites. One was very young, the other very old, one was in excellent health and the other was terminal. Stage four leukemia,” he clarified when Dean raised a questioning eyebrow. “In fact, that’s how she died. But this young lady wasn’t sick. She was in school, a bright student by all accounts.” he said, gesturing to the body in front of him. Sam scribbled furiously on his notepad.

“Well, you told us you’d let us know if anything came up. I’m assuming nothing has?” Dean prompted, glancing over at the body again.

“Nothing has,” the cop agreed. “My men are getting a bit frustrated. We haven’t had a case like this around here in a long time,” he said, looking absentmindedly around the room, “A long long time. Well, I’ll leave you boys to your work. I’ve got to get back to the station anyway. If there’s anything we can do to help, just give us a ring.” he said, shaking Dean’s hand and nodding at Sam and Cas before turning and marching back out the door. Sam and Dean glanced at each other. Sam shrugged.

“Okay, Cas.” Dean said, rounding on the angel. “You got any idea what’s going on with this body? Do that thing where you sniff it,” he said, “just don’t make it obvious.”

Castiel complied.

“Well, the police chief was correct when he told you that this woman was in excellent health,” he began, stepping closer to the body and inhaling slightly. “She was killed by a gunshot wound to her heart, but you know that already. It was in your notes. The residual magic is much stronger around the body,” he said, reaching a hand out as if to touch it but stopping short. “I can almost feel it. Physically,” he clarified when Sam shot him a questioning look. “There is no doubt in my mind that some sort of spell has been performed on this body, and I would be prepared to bet that it will be the same with the other.”

“Bet what?” Dean asked, looking him up and down.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked, tilting his head.

“You said you’d be willing to bet. How willing? Would you bet your coat on it?” he asked, a grin lighting his features.

“I suppose…” the angel said, squinting his eyes at the hunter who was now positively beaming. The look on his face was the same as the one he got right before he did something irritating to Sam.

“Awesome. You’re on.” said Dean. “If you’re wrong and there aren’t any witches I get your coat.”

Castiel pulled a bitchface.

“That’s hardly fair, Dean. You haven’t bet anything. You have nothing to lose.” he pointed out. Sam was watching the exchange with wide eyes and a small, barely suppressed smile. Cas glared at him for a second and the taller hunter raised his eyebrows innocently.

“Okay, fine. I’ll bet something. Uh…what about a case of beer?” Dean suggested, looking at the angel.

“I’m afraid that won’t cut it. My coat is my most prized possession, Dean. I will take this bet if and only if you bet your most prized possession against it.” Cas said, smiling a little himself now. A look of horror crossed Dean’s face as he realized what the angel was suggesting.

“You mean…no way!” he practically shouted. “My baby’s totally off-limits.”

“Too bad. I guess the bet is off,” Cas said, returning to examining the body.

“No, wait. We’re not gonna actually have to give each other this stuff forever, right?” Dean asked, looking quizzically at the angel. Castiel chuckled slightly.

“No, I suppose not. What about for one day only?” he answered, looking at Dean appraisingly. The hunter considered it for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright. Your coat against my car that there will be no witches on this hunt.” he said, offering his hand. Castiel took it solemnly and they shook. Sam had clearly had enough at that point, though, because he pushed through their handshake towards the body in question.

“If you two are done acting like teenagers, do you want to actually get some work done around here?” he asked, gesturing towards the body and raising both of his eyebrows so high that they almost disappeared into his copious amounts of hair. Dean stuck his tongue out but Cas returned to Sam’s side.

“All right, fine.” the green-eyed hunter said from behind his younger brother, “But I wanna examine the other body. This one is getting boring.”


	4. 4

_A chilly wind blew over the roof of the bunker. Dean wrapped his jacked closer around himself and shoved his hands even deeper into his pockets. There was something about autumn air that made the stars seem even clearer. Way out here, without any light pollution, Dean could see the constellations that Sammy had tried (and failed) to teach him when they were kids. He’d never admit it to his nerd of a little brother, but he had secretly loved that Sam was so smart. Sam had been everything Dean believed that he himself wasn’t––smart, kind, lovable––everything that Dean valued in a person. He still was, even despite all that had happened over the years. And sitting up here, breathing in the icy air that cut the back of his throat and expanded his lungs, Dean could almost reach back in time and see the kids they had been._

_Of course, Dean wasn’t alone. Invisible, Cas stood nearby, watching the hunter as he stared up at the moon. When Castiel looked at the night sky, all he saw was vacuum. Chalk and fire, as Thornton Wilder had once put it. He knew the ingredients that went into making a star. He had watched his father build them as a child. It had always seemed like work to him, nothing more. But Dean looked up and saw something else. He saw something that Castiel didn’t understand but desperately wanted to. He wanted to touch his fingers to Dean’s forehead and see what the hunter saw, view the world through his eyes. His horribly, beautifully mortal eyes._

_Castiel was an angel. He shouldn’t have felt small, because he wasn’t. He could’ve crushed Dean with one hand, crushed the whole bunker if he tried hard enough. He could’ve shot up into the stratosphere and gone to visit those distant stars himself. But something powerful anchored him to the earth. Boiled down his infinity of being into one moment. He was here, completely and entirely. All of him existed in the same place, at the same time. And that feeling of being entirely present was something that was new to the angel. It wasn’t that his center of gravity had shifted––it was that before Dean, Castiel hadn’t even had a center of gravity. He had never been solid enough, finite enough,_ human _enough to need one. But now he was. And he had no one to explain to him why. When Dean turned and went back inside the bunker, the angel didn’t follow. Instead, he stayed and looked up at the stars until the first rays of morning began to shine through._

Dean dropped his keys on the coffee table with a heavy thud. It was late afternoon, and the light slanted warmly in through the dusty curtains of the motel room. Sam sighed as he followed his brother into the room, holding the door open for Cas and then shutting it as quietly as possible. He turned to rummage in his bag for some Asprin. Dean was awful when he didn’t feel well.

They had examined the other body back at the morgue, but hadn’t found anything worthwhile. Castiel had sniffed the old woman too and had informed the boys that everything was just as Chief Doyle had said––save for the one thing that he hadn’t mentioned, which was that her corpse was permeated with the same magic that had surrounded the other one. It was looking more and more like witches. Then Dean had started complaining of a headache and Sam had known it was time to head back to the motel and try to get some research done. Except now that they were here, Dean was stalking back and forth, snapping at Cas and glaring at Sam and there was no way that anyone was going to be able to get any work done with him in the room. Sam straightened up, having found what he was looking for.

“Dean,” he said, tossing his brother the little pill bottle. The hunter caught it on reflex but glowered when he saw what it was.

“You don’t think I’ve tried that already? This is not a normal headache! This is a witch headache!” he snapped, opening the bottle anyway and pouring out several tablets onto his palm. Sam sighed through his nose.

“Dean, there is no magic anywhere near us,” Castiel started soothingly, but Dean rounded on him and glared. 

“You’ve been wrong before!” he growled, looking Cas up and down. The angel stared back stoically. Sam passed a hand over his eyes.

“Okay, guys. Dean, why don’t you lie down or something? I’ll go find a cafe and try to get some more research done. Cas you can come with me if you want to or stay here, I don’t care. I think we all just need some time. That work?”

The taller hunter opened his eyes and glanced around the room. Dean looked slightly less pissed but Cas suddenly looked anxious.

“Fine by me,” Dean grunted, and flung himself face first onto his bed. He lay there, feebly attempting to kick his boots off without getting up while Sam shoved his laptop and a couple other things into a small bag and grabbed the keys.

“Cas, you coming?” he asked, turning to look at the angel when he reached the motel room door. Castiel shook his head.

“I think that I’ll stay here. I don’t know that I will be any help at a cafe.” he said, glancing over at Dean. The shorter hunter’s eyes were closed, but Sam caught it all. He raised his eyebrows at Castiel, who squinted his own eyes a little in defiance. Sam grinned.

“Cas you can stay if you promise to be quiet.” Dean mumbled into his pillow.

“Alright.” the angel said, and sat down gently on the edge of Sam’s bed. Sam rolled his eyes and left, closing the door behind him.

There was silence in the motel room for a minute or two while Dean tried to fall asleep. He had finally succeeded in kicking his boots off, but the more he lay still the less comfortable he felt. He rolled over and smacked his forehead against the headboard.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed, trying to scoot back down the bed into a more comfortable position. Nothing was working. His feet hurt. His legs hurt. His arms hurt, his ears hurt, his eyes hurt and _oh god did his head hurt_. The hunter shot upright and kicked the leg of the bed in frustration, which only made his foot hurt more. He buried his face in his hands.

“Cas,” he growled without looking up, “you’d better not have been staring at me this whole frickin time.”

There was a slight groaning of springs as the angel shifted his weight. Then––

“Dean, if you would let me help––”

“CAS!” he yelled, and he didn’t know why he was so pissed. The dude was only trying to help him after all. There was silence. Dean groaned.

“Sorry. I’m being an asshole.” he muttered into his hands. The bedsprings creaked again. He felt the air around him shift as Cas moved to stand in front of him.

“Dean,” the angel started, and this time the hunter didn’t cut him off, “Will you please allow me to heal you?”

Dean pulled his face away from his hands and looked at the concerned man standing in front of him. Cas’s head was tilted sideways and his tie was askew. Dean had the ridiculous urge to straighten it. He didn’t. Instead he stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“It’s just a headache, man. I don’t know why I’m being so weird about it.” he said, balling his hands into fists and shoving them into his pockets.

“I think that it’s probably a combination of things. You are sick, yes, but you are also highly stressed about this case, uncomfortable with the fact that you are not at home, and unaccustomed to this lifestyle since you have not needed to consistently live this way for some time. It’s understandable that you are having an emotional reaction to not feeling well. The mind and the body are much more connected than most mortals realize.” Cas soothed. Without thinking, he placed a hand on Dean’s upper arm. It was like magic. The hunter relaxed into the touch and closed his eyes. Castiel was surprised, but not unpleasantly. He had expected Dean to push him off.

“Will you please let me heal you?” he tried again, absentmindedly stroking Dean’s flannel with his thumb. The hunter opened his eyes, glared at him, then nodded in resignation.

“Thank you.” Castiel said.

He could have just touched his fingers to Dean’s forehead the way he normally did when he or Sam were injured after a hunt. In fact, he didn’t even really need to touch Dean at all to heal him––it just worked better that way. But something compelled him to take a risk, and so instead of simply touching Dean with his fingertips, Castiel placed his hand along the hunter’s cheek and gently stroked his cheekbone with one thumb. Dean blinked at him in surprise, perhaps startled by the roughness of the angel’s hand or the intimacy of the gesture, but in moments the surprise evolved into relief and, eventually, overwhelming exhaustion. The hunter slumped forwards and Castiel’s other arm darted out and circled his waist.

“Cas, why’m I so sleepy?” he muttered into the angel’s shoulder, trying weakly to push himself off but failing and giving up, instead letting Castiel half-carry him back over to his bed.

“Because even though I have healed your body, the stress and the exhaustion still remain. I think it would be best if you got some sleep.” the angel explained, depositing Dean onto the bed and reaching down to pull the covers up over the hunter. Dean tried to glare but ended up grinning instead.

“You bastard…” he mumbled, “you made me fall asleep!”

The angel nodded solemnly.

“Yes, Dean,” he said, tucking the comforter around the other man’s shoulders, “I had to. How else was I going to get you to shut up?” The angel smiled slightly around his words. Dean laughed, and it was a sleepy, unguarded sound that stopped Castiel’s heart for a second. He sat back on his heels and studied Dean, who was trying valiantly to keep his eyes open. He was losing the battle.

“Hey Cas…” the hunter muttered, eyes drifting closed, “you wanna know something weird?” Castiel nodded, before realizing that Dean couldn’t see him.

“Yes. What’s weird?” he asked sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean was silent for so long that Castiel was sure that he had fallen asleep. He was beginning to think about moving back to his chair when all of a sudden, a calloused hand grabbed ahold of his. Dean’s fingers curled around his own and Castiel stared down in shock for a second, not really processing everything fully. He felt it, one of the many invisible lines. It snapped and faded, and it wasn’t he who had crossed it, it was _Dean_. And that right there, that would have been enough. But it was what Dean said next that caused the enormous wave of emotions, the one that Castiel wasn’t ready for.

“Sometimes,” the hunter mumbled softly, “I feel like you’re here. With me. Even when I can’t see you. Isn’t that strange? Cas…” he began again, and then Dean was asleep. There was a long pause while Castiel breathed in and out until––

“Not _so_ strange,” the angel muttered. And then he extracted his hand from the hunter’s, stood, and moved back over to his chair. It was time to truly deal with everything in his overflowing heart.


End file.
